Kasher in the Rye: The True Tale of a White Boy from Oakland Who Became a Drug Addict, Criminal, Mental Patient, and Then Turned 16

by Moshe Kasher

Donny saw me walking funny and put a hand on my shoulder. It was like a grounding. I straightened right up. The guys took me into a Sharper Image store and left me there, staring at one of those pin table art things for what might’ve been hours, might’ve been years. I slipped away. I woke up in Jeremy’s recently deceased grandparents’ house. From the other room, I heard a crash and then DJ exploded through the thin walls like the Kool-Aid Man, drywall dust everywhere, Jeremy laughing in the corner with tears streaming down his insane cheeks, painting white dust streaks down his clown face. I woke up in Jeremy’s van again, on the freeway going ninety miles an hour. Everyone was painted white like geishas. We looked like we’d been partying In the Night Kitchen. Just then, Jeremy threw his hands into the sky from behind the steering wheel and started screaming, “I’m too high! I forgot how to drive! I forgot how to drive!” Too high? On a puff of nothing? Reality surged through my brain like an ice pick. What the fuck! I looked over at Donny as the van started swerving across five lanes of traffic screeching as it moved. He had an insane smile on his face. “You ready to die, bro?!!” “Fuck it!” I screamed. This was as good a time as any. Donny and I threw our heads back in end-of-life laughter as our doom approached. I decided to blip out. My brain went gray. I remembered no more. I woke up at home. I wasn’t dead. Pleasing. Somehow, organically we decided not to fuck with Jeremy...